I Hate Peat Moss and it Hates Me

The fun part:

I like to pretend I can garden. I have a lot of green leafy things in pots, and I occasionally water and feed them. I don’t grow complicated things like flowers, because they require too much maintenance and also because I can’t eat them.

Yesterday, I finally had time to do my spring gardening (having a baby puts you behind a season or two) and I had a great time pruning and potting and basically playing with a bunch of dirt. It’s like mud pies for grown-ups.

And, the not-so-fun part:

Unfortunately, I have this evil bag of peat moss that frequently causes my skin to flare up with disgusting itchy red marks. I have yet to actually throw the bag out, because I live on the third floor and the dumpster is far, far away. Also, my plants seem to like peat moss included in their soil mix.

It’s been awhile since I last gardened, so I forgot to wear gloves and long-sleeves. I even wore shorts, which was a stellar idea. As a result, today I have the most disgusting rash on my arms and legs, with all these teeny little white specks and huge poofy venom-filled patches skin. When you touch it (if you dare), it feels like a bee sting, or like you have wet baking soda packed under your skin. Mmm.

My Theories

1. The bag is infested with very small, stinging bugs. Since the rashes have gotten progressively worse, it stands to reason that they are lying in wait in the bag, breeding more and more monsters.
2. This batch of peat moss is very dusty. My skin, which already hates dust mites, had an allergic reaction and is waging war on itself.
3. My garden, spurred on by the fact that I regularly deny it food and water and sometimes even sunshine, has decided to kill me.

It’s a tough call. At least I know it’s happened before, and will go away. The first time I had just talked to a friend about their case of scabies, so I was certain that’s what I had. I woke up in the middle of the night itching like mad. Imagining tiny organisms crawling around inside your body is not a great way to relax.

Disgusting photos for the morbidly curious

Blech.